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Pt 1 - Dog Soldier
10 February 2000

I've been a Protector 21 years (that's 3 years of civilian-time), a hard-working member of a family renowned for service in the military and police forces. I've brought down my share of villains and then some; I'm good with the civilians too, and the ir children are grateful for the protection. I'm not here to sit in a civilian's lap and get my ears scratched; that wasn't what I was bred for. If I can't work, I might as well trot to the shelter and lie down in the chamber.

And if I'm bitten by a crazy, as sometimes happens to those of us in this line of work, I'm a danger to the civilians, and the only decent thing for me to do is to run into traffic.

So when I began to smell the sun and taste the wind, I knew I'd gone mad. I didn't remember getting bitten, but perhaps that was the madness making me forget. It made my head hurt, made everything too bright and too loud; things smelled too much and even my fur hurt me. I was frightened, but I know my duty.

I told my leader. He was afraid and stayed away from me. The others avoided me as I left; they had a duty to avoid me.

I walked to a busy street, full of cars. I'm big, and a car might not kill me right away, so I waited until a truck headed down the street before stepping off the curb.

The next thing I knew I was sprawled flat on the road and the truck went right over me. And I wasn't alone. The dog that had barrelled into me was right on top of me, a scrap of silky yapping fur who jumped off the moment the truck had screeched to a halt. As I staggered to my feet it barked and ran in circles around me, tongue out.

Son of a woman. I'd just had my life saved by a pet. And a puppy, as if that wasn't shame enough. Cocker Spaniel, if the cascade of curly hair pretending to be ears was any indication; ten months old; dog rather than bitch.

"Why'd you do that mister, why'd you do that?" the lap-sitter barked, still running round and round me. "Trucks kill you dead, roadkill, scrape 'em off and throw 'em away, good thing I saw you huh!"

The pup hadn't just charged out into a road full of cars -- a bicycle could kill this one -- because of carelessness. He'd done it deliberately, to save me. I don't think I've ever been so angry.

"Stupid puppy!" I snapped, briskly driving the lap-sitter to the curb before the civilians could run him over. "I'm sick! I have to die! Now stay here and don't you dare get in the road again!"

The pup jumped up and down in place. "Sick? Sick? Sick? You don't look sick, mister, a big dog like you sick? How? How, how, how?"

I decided to send the little pet running back to Master. I bared my teeth and hackled right in that little silky face with the enormous eyes. "Crazy sick, little pup. Bad crazy. I smell things I shouldn't, I can see farther than those buildings. I hear birds flying right now, and there are no birds up there!"

Silky stared right at me with those enormous eyes so irresistible to its nursing mother. He didn't run away barking his head off, the way any smart dog would to avoid the crazy. Idiot pup must be bitten-crazy too. Maybe I should let him play in traffic --

"There they are!" the pup said, looking up. "Look! Look, look, look!"

I looked up, and saw a flock of sparrows flit by.

"You heard birds before they were here! Faster than me!" This seemed an ideal time for the pup to start running in circles round me once again, barking. "I bet you can smell those buildings far away, and tell me how many big-people are in 'em! Or s ee how fast the cars are coming! Oh boy, this is great! Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!"

Great? Every blade of grass hurting my feet was a gift from Fenris and not a curse? That didn't smell right.

"You're a police dog, aint'cha? Soldier dog! Guard dog!"

"The correct name for my breed is German Shepherd," I informed the yipper icily.

"Or Alsatian, I know that too! I know lots! I'm smart!"

Good Fenris. This one could talk the leg off a table. Even if he was smart.

"If you're so smart, lickhand," I sneered, "why did you run into traffic to save a sick dog?"

"You're not sick, you're a sharp-nose!"

Sharp-nose?

I stared at the little scrap of fur with silky ears who should be in a padded doggie-bed being fed table-treats. Those uncanny eyes, so bright and friendly -- so different from the cool appraising eyes of the civilians who trained me, the sniffs of the leader and the others.

The pup shook his head briskly, ears flapping. "I look for sharp-noses all over, all sorts of dogs! Mostly Shepherds and police dogs. Good thing I saved you, huh? You're not crazy-sick, that's sharp-nose. Didn't anyone tell you about sharp-nose?"

I'd never heard of sharp-nose.

"That makes you an extra-special guard dog! You can guard faster, smarter and better than the others! I know, I can help!" The Spaniel jumped up and down again. "Let me help you, I can help, help, help!"

At that, I let out a loud bark, the first good laugh I'd had in a long time. "All right, pup. You saved me. You get to help." I turned and trotted back to the pack, and heard flapping ears as he scampered after me.

Help, I thought scornfully, ignoring the frisking lap-dog racing circles around me all the way back. Fenris give me strength.

This puppy would help, would he? The first time we confronted an angry civilian or a bad-tempered poodle, Spaniel-Boy would fly away yapping in terror, his tail between his legs.

As it turns out, I was wrong.

Pt. 2
12 March 2000

I wasn't surprised when Pack Leader took one sniff of my tagalong and tried to scare the yapper off. Cocker Spaniels make friendly and affectionate pets for civilians, but they don't belong with us. They only use their teeth for fetching chewy toys and eating kibble. The only reason I let Spaniel tag along was because without his interference I'd have been dead under the wheels of a truck. Like it or not, he'd saved my life and was now responsible for me. If I couldn't scare the puppy off, Leader could.

But Spaniel just stood there, ears flapping in the breeze made by Leader's barking and snarling, then rolled over and showed his throat like a properly-trained soldier. The pup was tougher than he looked, I had to admit that -- and he respected authority more than most pets respected non-civilians.

Leader then turned on me. "Alsatian, why in Fenris' name aren't you dead!"

He had good reason to expect me dead. When I thought I'd been bitten by a crazy, I informed him and went off to die like a good soldier. Instead, I came back alive, with my very own pet puppy in tow. No wonder he was confused and angry. "Sir, the pup saved my life. He says I'm not sick."

"You're crazy-bitten!" Leader snarled at me -- a brave thing to do to a dog you believe to carry death in his bite.

I hackled, but showed my throat -- I know how to respect authority even when I'm angry. "Sir, I'm not sick, and I wasn't bitten by a crazydog. Spaniel here says I'm a 'sharpnose', and that's why I've been smelling and hearing things I couldn't before."

"Sharpnose?" Leader didn't know the term any more than I had.

"Sir, this Spaniel knew exactly what was happening with my nose and eyes, why the ground hurts my feet and why everything tastes different. Spaniels are smart, they're not just pretty pets. If he can help me understand this thing inside me, it might make me a better Protector."

Leader glared at my benefactor, who at that moment was busy chasing his own tail. "And this is who will train you. Alsatian, how old is this pup? Six months?"

Spaniel stopped whirling for a full second. "Sir, I'm seven years old - you'd say, a full civilian year, right?" He went back to his tailchasing without waiting for an answer.

Leader's glare at the pup was almost funny -- he didn't know how to deal with a fearless pet any more than I did. The other Protectors stared at the silky little interloper -- Keeshond and Mastiff, the Terriers, old Labrador -- and at me. They weren't clear whether to gang up on Spaniel or fear my retaliation as his responsibility.

Leader snapped at the open air once; what he would say would be final. "Alsatian, you and Spaniel go. Leave us alone and don't come near us for two years. Either you two learn how to use this 'sharpnose' of yours to help us, or you kill each other when the crazy rises up in your blood." He bared his teeth and hackled. The others matched Leader's expression, staring at us both.

That made Spaniel stop and go quiet as a watchdog, feathery tail wafting and silky ears cocked. I could tell he understood that if either of us returned before the alotted time, we would be torn to pieces. We had two years to prove I wasn't sick.

"Sir, yes sir," I replied, and tucked my tail between my legs and lowered my ears. I turned and left them without a backward look. But I heard Spaniel's "Sir yes sir," and his own silky tail sliding between his hind legs. For a pet, he knew every correct gesture to make to non-civilians. I heard him trotting along beside me, panting a bit with exertion.

We left the alley in the center of the most dangerous part of the city -- the place we were most needed -- and headed west. The afternoon sun felt good warming up my fur, and now I could feel every hair soak up the heat. I panted hard to get rid of my anger.

"I'm sorry I got you chased out of your pack," Spaniel said. "We'll just have to come back and show them what you can do!"

I snorted. "What good can I do just by telling you I can smell a sausage-cooker a long run away? And lots of cars and trucks. And civilians?"

"Normal smells. But smell like you're looking for trouble," the silky-eared pup said, plopping on his haunches at the corner. "Smell, and cock your ears, as if a long-run away was just across the street."

I sat down facing the pup. I sniffed, and I listened. The more I smelled and listened, the less I felt my own fur warming, or every sharp stone under my footpads. Nothing to look at but the dark shining eyes of this ridiculously cute Spaniel pup who had no business accompanying a soldier --

Smoke. Cries of help. Civilians. Yaps of distress -- pets.

I turned my head. The air wavered far away -- then far-away things looked close. Wavering hot air, very hot air. Smoke. Distress cries.

"Fire! There's a building on fire! I can find civilians trapped inside!"

I took off so fast I didn't even bother to see or hear if Spaniel ran beside me.

Pt 3
3 April 2001

Third in the Dogsenads. Over a year after the last one. (Trilly had loved these, and after her suicide I didn't have the heart to keep it up that year.) But when a new listsib wrote a snippet that used the term "anthro-puppy," I knew it was time to resurrect the thread:

I'd smelled the fire from two long runs away, right through the smells of city streets and the thousands of civilians between us and the burning building.

I'm no pet -- as an Alsatian my duty is to protect the civilians, and I could hear their distressed cries from within the burning building. Action followed thought and I ran, toward the fire.

But Spaniel ran alongside me, toward the fire too. Any self-preserving pet would run yelping from that horrific thing. I could hear his little heart hammering at his chest from more than the run. He stank of fear.

"That's fire, lapdog!" I barked. "Stay and wait! Stay! Stay!"

"No! No!" he yelped right back, panting and whining in fear though he was. "I saved you from the truck, I get to stay with you!"

He was right, bite it all. When my nose and paws and tongue and eyes got crazy on me, I stepped into the road to get run over so I wouldn't bring crazy-bite back to the other Protectors. Next thing I know this yelping bundle of curly puppy hair had jumped on me and the truck went right over both of us.

Now Spaniel said I wasn't bitten-crazy but a, a sharp-nose -- a special Protector, better even than Leader or the other members of the pack. But sharp-nose or not, protecting civilians is my duty and the purpose of my training. I didn't expect Frisky to tag along.

The heat and noise and smell were horrible. Fire is for civilians to tame, and even they can't do it all the time -- no four-leg would have anything to do with that Fenris-damned stuff. It was a big building, vomiting out thick evil-smelling smoke.

My hackles rose but I prepared to dash in there and start quartering the rooms one after the other, listening and smelling through the heat and stink.

A loud yip. "Wait! Stay! Stay, Alsatian!"

No one but a civilian or Leader stops me in my duty. I turned and snarled at the pup to frighten him. If that didn't work, a good hard bite to the nose would teach the puppy who was boss. "I have to go in there and look!" I snarled.

That big-eyed face never looked away from me. "Don't look! Smell! Listen! Listen, here! Right here!"

Here? Away from the building, amid the smells and noises of a busy street full of frightened civilians? No Protector could --

"Be a sharp-nose! Use those pointy ears Fenris gave you!" Spaniel leaped up and -- and the little son of a woman nipped my nose. "And this! Close your eyes and move your ears and nose into the building!"

I was so stunned by his audacity I couldn't react. That was stupid, senseless! Sit on my hairy tail and put my ears and nose into the building? My ears and --

The top. I could smell the top of the building as if I was on that floor, feeling the boards smolder under my paws. I could hear them crackle and creak, from the window on back into the room, through an opening -- a door? -- and into another room. The room stunk as if I was being singed in its very midst. Fire, only sounds of the fire.

Down the stairs, eyes shut against the sting; I wouldn't be able to see even if I were to open my eyes, the smoke was so thick. Only the stink of fire, only...

A heart. A beating heart. A slowing, beating heart. No cries any more. Only a heart fading toward silence, under the stairs.

I couldn't move. I couldn't think. I sat under the stairs listening to that slowing heart, waiting for the ceiling to crash down on --

Pain shot through my ear and I yelped, shook my head. I was outside the building, and Spaniel was licking his chops. He'd bitten me again --

The heart.

"Stay!" This time I cuffed the little hairball, and I tore into that terrible place. Up the stairs, up the stairs, up the stairs, there! Under that set of stairs, a civilian pinned, confused by smoke, unable to cry for help, dying. By feel I grabbed its clothing in my mouth and pulled, hard. Free. His heartbeat -- my nose told me it was a male -- was still slowing. Down the stairs, this time feeling every burnt board. Down the stairs, smelling the stink of my fur burning. Down the stairs, never losing my grip, never opening my eyes, never missing a step or stumbling, or losing my way in the horrific --

Out. Out, and many civilians swarming over us both, wrapping me in wet cloths to put out my fur, giving me fresh air that smelled like medicine, bandaging my burnt paws. Out, to the hugs and pats and praise that are a Protector's reward; "Good boy, good boy," the white-coated man said, patting my head.

Out, to see a ridiculous pet puppy barking and jumping and chasing his own tail with joy. "You did it, you did it, you did it!" Spaniel yelped, dashing up to me and racing around me in big circles. "Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy!"

I'd never walked in a building without going in first. I'd never saved a civlian that quickly, and with no stumbling or confusion at all.

And I wouldn't have broken free of my nose-walk, if that little pup hadn't nipped my ear to wake me up.

So this was sharp-nose.

"Good boy, lickhand," I wuffed, and Spaniel actually stopped midair to stare at me, his puppy eyes huge and bright. I licked the top of his silky head. "Good boy."

Pt 4
5 August 2001

In response to a listsib's plaintive cry:

> And will someone please get these damn badgers off my ankles!!!!

"Badgers!"

Spaniel leaped three feet off the ground, all four legs flying in different directions (and his big silky ears in two directions). "Wha! Wha, wha wha wha?" he yipped, looking everywhere and whirling in circles to do it.

Can't say I blame the pup. We were both fast asleep in a relatively safe alleyway when my dream woke me with that bark of alarm. They were huge, both of them, slavering and sharp-toothed, vicious as their breed can be but bigger than Great Danes. I'd seen and smelled them so vividly that even now I stared, every whisker twitching, ears flying back and forth.

"Alsatian, what is it, what is it?" Spaniel wuffed, jumping up and down before me.

I shook my head, giving the silky little pet a quick head-lick to reassure him. "Bad dream, Spaniel. I dreamed I smelled badgers. Two of them. Great big badgers."

"Badgers?" Spaniel cocked his head, ears flopping, his big eyes fixed on my face. "Alsatian, there are no badgers in the city. They're forest animals, I know that, I know lots of things, I'm smart, you can't have smelled badgers!"

"Doesn't this city have a zoo?" I interrupted him, impatient. The little lapdog's eagerness and friskiness could be irritating, especially to an old guard dog like me who's more comfortable in the company of other fierce silent mutts than among civilians or their pets.

"Zoo!" Spaniel scratched one of his ears with a hind leg so hard it flopped forward with every kick. "Zoo! Badgers are in the zoo! You smelled the badgers! That's five long-runs away! Oh boy oh boy!"

I gave my own head a shake and took a deep breath. And smelled badger, stronger and nastier than ever.

The zoo wasn't that close. I couldn't smell any other zoo smells.

I bolted in the direction of the smell, barking "Spaniel!" I didn't look; I knew Flop-ear was dashing along to my left and just behind me by half a pace. Ordering the excited pup to Stay! did nothing but make him mad even as he tore after me; whatever civilian had been in charge of instilling obedience in the little lickhand had done a terrible job of it.

Badger smell, strong and nasty. Their bite can bring sickness if they too are sick, and they tear apart smaller creatures. If the badgers had escaped the zoo, which I suspected, they might harm a civilian or kill a pet -- a tiny dog or a cat.

Badger smell -- and the smell of death now, stronger, closer. I felt myself growing cold and angry, ready for a terrible fight. "Spaniel -- "

And there it was, before us. I halted and Spaniel skidded forward, still beside me. Blood and death, and the street lights reflecting off dead eyes. And a familiar smell.

"Oh, Fenris," Spaniel whimpered, and huddled down, sniffing the pitiful thing.

Peke.

He wasn't any older than Spaniel, small as all his breed are even as adults, but as fierce and protective of his owner as a whole pack of Alsatians. He'd loved calling out to us as we'd pass, Leader and the other Protectors, and laughed along with us when we'd tease the silky little Pekingese pup who'd wanted to join us. "Protect your master, Peke!" I'd shout back, and the tiny dog would yarf, "Sir, yes sir!"

He was still warm, and his body smelled of badger as well as of blood and death. They'd killed him right in front of his home.

"He was only a puppy," Spaniel said softly. "They just killed him for fun."

I rumbled deep in my throat and hackled all the way to my tail-tip. Where the fenris were Leader and the others? How could they not smell that filthy, wild smell on our territory? How could they not smell --

Not smell. I could not smell. I was blind.

"Spaniel," I gasped, sniffing and sniffing and sniffing, and only taking in air. I shook my head, pawed at my ears, stared around and around and around. "Can't smell. Can't smell!"

Spaniel stared at me shaking my head. "What do you mean? Alsatian, Alsatian! Down! Down!" Next thing I knew my panic was smacked out of me by pain. I stared right into Spaniel's eyes, up close and big, my muzzle held fast in the little dog's teeth as he forced my head down. "Down!" he said fiercely, and let go. "Down!"

Shaking with fury and panic, I succumbed to the command in his voice, and lay down beside poor little Peke. Small as he was to me, Spaniel was my new pack leader whether I liked it or not. He knew more about my 'sharpnose' than I did, and had saved my life once already.

"You can't smell anything?" Spaniel said. "Anything?"

I scratched one paw down my nose. "I smelled Peke, then -- nothing."

"Peke?"

I looked at the little dead pup. "This was Peke. He liked us. He liked me. We laughed, but we liked him too. He wanted to be like us, Protectors, but a pet's a pet. Those sons of women killed poor little Peke -- " I was shaking again.

"Oh, that poor pup."

That was a new voice behind me, and panic swept through me. I hadn't smelled anyone coming. I whipped around.

But Spaniel was already with the newcomer, wagging his tail and sniffing ass like a gentleman. "Collie! What are you doing out?"

The Border Collie bitch sniffed right back, her own tail wagging fiercely at meeting what was clearly a friend. "Spaniel, I could ask you that. And stop that, I'm spayed, you naughty boy."

"Dog can smell, can't he?" Spaniel said, laughing, and trotted back to me. "Alsatian, this is Collie, an old friend. Park run-buddies."

"Alsatian," the Collie said. "I'd felt something wrong tonight, things not in their place, scattering. Is that what killed the pup?" She smelled the corpse, her nose wrinkling as she backed off, baring her teeth. "Looks like feral dogs did this, but the smell -- "

"Stinking badgers," I said. "I'd say they escaped the zoo. But now I can't smell them." If I couldn't smell them I couldn't find them, and if I couldn't find them I couldn't lock my teeth in their mangy hides and shake them to death.

"Badgers?" Collie looked nervous. "Wild animals don't belong loose in cities -- feral dogs are bad enough."

"It's all right, Collie," Spaniel said. "Alsatian's going to listen for them, and look."

Listen? Look? Without smelling? What was I, a civilian?

Peke had still been warm when we found him. Badgers can scurry, but don't run the way dogs can. They had to still be close enough for me to --

Don't smell! Listen. And look. Look! Spaniel's voice yipped inside my head now.

They'd killed Peke, those evil, filthy --

Listen! Look!

I pricked my ears, forward then back. I stared after the place where I'd last smelled the badger stink.

"Spaniel, what's he -- "

"Shh! He's looking. Look at him!"

Across the lawn, across the street, under the hedge. Branches moving from the breeze, shadowed places under the bushes, pawprints. Pawprints, too small for a dog, too deep for a cat.

And I was there, sniffing at them even though it was useless. Not dog nor cat pawprints. Claws in that print, and a white hair or two along the way. Prints. Fenris bless the damp weather that made prints even a civilian could track.

Spaniel was beside me, sniffing. "Badger stink! This is it! Oh boy!"

I could do it. I could track without my nose!

I took a breath, and looked around me, looking deep. There, branches moving when no breeze stirred. Scuttling feet. White and grey hair. A waddling gait.

"I see them, Chief!" I barked, so excited I called Spaniel my nickname for Leader, and ran. "I hear them! Badgers!"

The badgers hissed and scampered through the hedge. This was boxwood, and I was pinned against it, unable to break through the stiff branches. I barked in rage.

"I can do it! I can do it!" Spaniel yipped, and tore into the underbrush before I could stop him. "You killed Pekey! You badgers!"

They split up under the hedge, one going one way, the other being chased by Spaniel, forcing their way through branches and leaves. "They're splitting up!" I barked.

"No they're not!"

And Collie was there, wriggling her way under the brush from the other side, silent after that one cry.

I was the Protector. And all I could do was throw myself against those heavy branches with my big body, useless and helpless, while two civilian's pets, one of them a youngster, went after those creatures. I'd led them there with my ears and my eyes. I should be the one there, fighting those animals, tearing them limb from limb --

A high sharp yelp of pain. From Spaniel.

I leaped over the hedge, and badger-smell hit me in the nose with blood and Spaniel's smell all at once.

A badger darted out of the hedge, and I was there before it, showing every tooth and hackle I had. "Pup-killer," I snarled.

"What'll ye do about it, boyo?" the badger sneered at me. "Me brother and meself are zoo, they'll not be takin' kindly to yer harmin' us."

"Brother -- " A similar voice came from behind me. "Oh brother -- "

The badger turned and stared. "Brother, what do ye -- "

The other one. I turned around to crush the other badger's spine.

And I couldn't move.

Eyes like an angry civilian's glared right into mine. The eyes that accompany the shout "Bad Dog!" made everything in me sink to the ground, tail down, ears down, nose buried in paws.

They weren't the badger's eyes. The badger's rump was toward me, getting closer as it backed away from those terrible eyes.

A sharp pain in one ear -- and a welcome, familiar, living smell -- turned my attention away from the eyes. It was Spaniel, panting and grinning despite a nasty scratch on his nose. He released my ear. Would he never stop nipping my ear to get my attention? I hoped he never would.

"I flushed that one out," he said. "You found 'em. Now it's up to Collie."

Collie. Collie's eyes had cowed me into backing down.

Now it was Collie, crouched down and glaring, who fixed two badgers and kept them from fleeing. Who shifted forward this way and that, and made the pair back up, huddle together, shift away from the hedge and safety. They were mute with terror before the sheep-dog's instinctive ability to herd any animal that lived and breathed on Fenris' world.

"Good boyos," Collie said in a low growl. "That's the way. Back where you came. That's it..."

I sniffed Spaniel from nose to tail; apart from the one scratch he was unharmed. "I can smell again, Chief."

"Wow. Wow wow wow." Spaniel barked a little, softly, and sniffed me back. "You must have hurt so bad from that little pup's death that the pain took away your nose. What got it back?"

"I was afraid you'd gotten hurt." I sniffed his nose and gave it a lick to make sure it had stopped bleeding. "I had to be able to smell to help you. And I did."

"Wow." Spaniel's ears pricked up and he looked at the two frightened badgers backing away from the slowly advancing Border Collie. "Shall we help her?"

"I think so. But if I look in her eyes I can't help."

I closed my eyes and stood up. I didn't need my eyes. I smelled and listened, and made my way to the nearest badger, and clamped my teeth in the scruff of its neck. I hauled the scrabbling, cursing bundle of claws in the air, and turned my back on Collie.

With Spaniel and Collie beleaguering the other badger between them by dint of their teeth, I led them in taking the pair of wild animals back to the zoo.

Pt 5 Sat, 25 Aug 2001

Yip!

"It's been two years, Chief," I said, stretching every muscle from tongue to tail-tip.

Spaniel lifted his leg against the alley wall where we'd slept the night. "Two years, Alsatian, it's been two years! You're not foaming at the mouth, you aren't wobbling in circles, you aren't irrational! They'll take you back all right! This is great, this is great, this is great!" He started running in circles, piddling a little bit in excitement. "They have to believe you now!"

I looked at that happy, frisky pup. "Yes. They'll take me back. I don't know what Leader and the others will do for you. They may drive you away."

Spaniel stopped in his tracks and cocked his head to the side, silky black curly ears cocking as well. "Me? Drive me away? Oh, they couldn't do that, Alsatian, who'll help you huh, who'll teach you sharpnose stuff, huh?"

"You know your dogs, Chief," I said. "Leader and I and the other Protectors are Alsatians, Great Danes, Boxers, and bulldogs of all breeds. Irish Wolfhounds. English Mastiffs. Newfoundlands."

With every recital of breed, Spaniel's ears drooped a little more and a little more; his tail sank lower and lower. "Soldiers," he said. "Fenris' first whelps."

"Unless you can hold your own in a fight with Leader, they'll drive you away. You're a pet, lickhand. They'll look at you and all they'll see is a pup playing at Protector, the way Peke used to do." The death of that poor little Pekingese pup still pained me, though I could have done nothing to stop it.

I shook myself one last time and trotted out of the alley. The bright daylight and the walkway hurt my eyes and paws; the traffic pained my ears; the entire world assaulted my nose from all sides. I did what Spaniel taught me, and concentrated all my effort into learning everything through my tongue; this made the other senses dull to a tolerable level. We had spent nearly a year practicing this technique, and I could do it well by now.

Spaniel scampered beside me, just behind my head and to my left, as always. "Then I'll make them accept me, the way I made you accept me!"

"Do you plan to save them all from oncoming trucks by jumping on them and wagging your tail?" I asked. "They won't believe this 'sharpnose' -- there are times I still don't believe it, and I'm the one who has it."

Spaniel growled a little bit and raced around me in frustration. "Can't they smell what's right before their noses? Can't you smell things from a long-run away? Sharpnose will only help Protectors!"

I halted him by putting a paw on his muzzle and pinning him to the ground. "It's new, my little puppy!" I woofed in his face. "Protectors are bred to distrust strangers and stay close to their own. It's in our bones and our blood to look at the unfamiliar with suspicion!"

Spaniel looked up at me. Those Fenris-damned pup's eyes of his! When he looked at me that way, all I wanted to do was pick him up by the scruff and carry him back to his mother's basket. Or protect him from harm.

I released him, and continued on my way. I heard the flap of his ears as he joined me.

I could hear Leader ahead. There was Lab and Terrier and Pit, sniffing and watching on their patrol. One long walk and we would be there. We?

I turned and nudged at Spaniel's side, nudged him into an area full of parked cars, making him lie down beneath one. "Stay here," I whispered. "Stay. Stay!"

Spaniel parked his tail and grinned at me. "I'm stayed."

"That would be a welcome change," I said dryly. "Wait here until I call for you."

I headed toward the pack as if reporting back from a routine perimeter. Leader stiffened at my scent just before they all spotted me and went silent.

"Sir! On your order I have stayed away for two full years and now present myself for your perusal, sir!"

They'd driven me away when my senses began to pain me and play maddening games with me; they'd all feared foaming-sickness, as indeed had I. (I'd been all ready to step into traffic when that damned puppy had flung himself at me and sent us both under the truck, saving my life.) Leader had ordered me to stay away for two full years to make sure that I was not a danger to myself or others, on pain of death. Now I was back.

Leader approached me, sniffing. I lowered my eyes and tucked my tail and awaited his verdict. All he had to do was utter one short, sharp bark and the others would spring forward to tear me to pieces.

"You're not sick," Leader said shortly, and clamped his teeth on my muzzle. "Return to the pack, Alsatian."

The others sprang forward -- to bark and sniff and wag tails and nip and bite and tussle. "Alsatian's back!" "Not foaming and biting, B, I told you he wasn't bitten!" "You old son of a woman!" "Heard you got the little beasts that ripped Peke, good job!" "Where's that puppy you were with?" "You've been sleeping in the Backbone, that smell's all over you!"

By dint of effort I made my way back to Leader, whose entire expression of pleasure at my return was the short stiff wagging of his tail as he stood apart and watched us make pets of ourselves in true soldier fashion. I presented my throat, and he cocked his ears to show he would listen to my request.

"Sir, the Spaniel was right. I can smell and see and hear and taste better than I ever could before. I rescued a civilian in a burning building by smelling him even through the smoke. I caught a badger by only using my eyes and my teeth. This isn't madness I have; it's a thing that will help us."

"That's not a request, Alsatian," Leader said shortly.

"Sir, my abilities are at their strongest with Spaniel's help. He teaches me how to use them, and he's been right so far -- he's been teaching me these past two years. He's also stronger and tougher than I thought he would be. He went right after those badgers who killed Peke as if he was a silky-eared terrier. I request that he stay with me, to continue teaching me."

"No," Leader replied. "Now rejoin our patrol and go back to your duties."

I had a hundred things I could have said. But Spaniel had the only reply that might, possibly, work.

"Then let me tell him in person, sir. Perhaps he would also like you to tell him so, firmly. He is at that age."

Leader looked away. "If you like."

I barked. "Spaniel! Come here, come here! Come on!" Again, I could hear the flopping of his ears and the click of his nails on the walk before I heard his excited panting and the feathery swish of his leg hairs as Spaniel scampered up to the pack.

The pack stood apart, sniffing. "Alsatian's friend." "That puppy." "Smells crazy enough on his own without being bitten."

Spaniel walked right up to Leader, dropping ears and eyes and tail as if reporting for duty. "Sir! Coming as called by my superior, sir!"

Leader sniffed once in surprise. Spaniel had sounded as brisk and rough as any Protector -- no puppyish scampering or tail-chasing now. Devious little lickhand...

"Spaniel, Leader says you can't help me," I said.

"May I ask why?" the pup asked Leader, as polite and firm as anyone requesting the clarifying of an order.

"You may, Spaniel," Leader replied in the same vein. That much, Spaniel learned from my stories in two years -- that Leader returned respect for respect. "You are a pet. You are a pup. And you are not a Protector. We keep pets from danger, Spaniel -- the world we see every day is not an old shoe for you to chew on for fun. If Alsatian, or I, or any of us, caused you to be killed, we would be no better than those stinking badgers Alsatian caught. The matter is closed. You may not run with us. Not now, not ever. I will say no more."

Spaniel said nothing more, either. All he did was look at Leader. With his Fenris-damned puppy stare.

And Spaniel trotted beside me as I rejoined the pack with my new partner.

Pt 6
5 May 2002

Arf.

"Alsatian, if you don't stop licking my leg I'm going to bite your nose," Spaniel snapped.

"Whelp," I muttered, but gave the back of his head an affectionate bump with the aforesaid nose in lieu of more attention to his injury. The little pet was right, bite it. He had done well in the fight; it was my own reaction to his puppyness and not the small nip on his heelstring that was the problem.

"I'm sure Spaniel will live to fight another day, Alsatian," Collie added dryly. "I'll try to get one of my ears bitten off next time, to take your attention away from him." The Collie bitch had no mothering attitude toward my companion at all; I don't know whether it was because she was spayed, or simply because she was more sensible than I regarding Spaniel. The little lickhand had wriggled under every fence I'd put up around myself, from the moment he'd saved my life that first day.

"Wow, this is great!" Spaniel barked for the fourth time. "Wow, I did all right in a dogfight! Wow, wow, Leader will sniff my butt for this one!" I never saw a pack member prouder of a bleeding wound than Spaniel was of his small limp.

We were on a busy sidewalk, headed back to the pack after a successful rout of some intruding strays on our territory. Collie had deflected Spaniel's attacker and herded him away with her terrible compelling stare before he could hamstring my partner. After the fight, she tended Spaniel's injury while I re-marked our boundaries wherever the interlopers had pissed on our signposts; "No one's better at lifting his leg than you are, Alsatian," Spaniel said as Collie licked his heel. My superior nose had been a great asset to that vital task --

I smelled another new dog. This smell was coming from ahead of us. In the direction of our pack.

I stopped and hackled immediately.

Spaniel and Collie froze -- and then Spaniel began to bark in excitement. Only his leg injury kept him from racing in circles around me. "What? What, what, whatisit, whatisit?"

I was getting better at sharp-nose. I sat, and since my eyes wouldn't help I closed them and cocked my head to listen and smell better. "It's another intruder. A new dog is with our pack. Not a dog, a bitch." Sniff sniff sniff. "Purebred of some sort, a fierce breed." The worst of the news. "Unspayed. Not in heat, but not spayed."

"Oh, Fenris," Collie said.

"Fenris help us all," Spaniel echoed.

I silently agreed.

All dogs carry Fenris' madness inside them, and it shows up when a bitch goes into heat. When that happens, Chaos becomes the leader of dogs; the most loyal and companionable packs, even longtime friends, will fight each other in the presence of a sexually-ready female. Collie, being spayed, was more like one of us dogs than a bitch -- a good fighting companion and our best at herding anything.

"Well, we'll just have to do more driving off once we reach the pack," Spaniel said. "Collie gives her the old look-of-death, and she'll walk anywhere we say."

But it was what I didn't smell and didn't hear that troubled me too. No smell of blood or torn flesh, no sound of pained whimpering. There hadn't been a big fight over the newcomer. No sound of protests, or threats. No growling from the other pack members. No objections by Leader. "Let's get back, and see what's going on."

So we came back to the pack, with more apprehension than pride and triumph in our successful mission.

The closer we got, the stronger the new-dog smell became. Her piss was on our markers here. I was busy lifting my leg all the way back to cover her scent. This did not bode well. We'd only been gone a day and a night.

"She must be a hell of a fighter," Collie muttered.

"That's too much to believe," Spaniel said. "For this newcomer to ingratiate herself so quickly, with no test period or acclimatization? You sure she's not in heat, Alsatian?"

"Don't smell it in her piss."

But when I used my eyes to see the newcomer in the midst of our packmates, I thought I understood why Leader had bypassed his judgement to let a stranger join them. "I see her. She's a Poodle."

The little lickhand Poodles favored as civilian pets are distant relations to the true species -- Poodles are large, fierce, and powerful hunters. They make vicious enemies, but as allies that high-strung bloodlust is a powerful weapon. Our pack had never harbored an ally Poodle before.

"Poodle teeth, on our side?" Spaniel muttered. The stray who'd tried to hamstring him had carried Poodle blood, clear in the curly hair and the vicious teeth.

Then we were seen. Stafford and Laborador and Rottweiler bounded over to sniff us, and they were full of news about the recent arrival. By the time the pack surrounded us we'd heard everything.

She'd come in last night, while the three of us were out patrolling. She'd approached Leader and offered to fight any dog of his choosing for the right to join the pack.

"Well, she didn't say it like that," admitted Rottweiler.

"Yeah," said Bulldog. "It was more 'Oh brave Leader, I'd be so honored if you could show me your splendid leadership in choosing a fit opponent for me to prove my worth on my own merits in your great pack.' " Leader didn't even bite her nose after that one."

Spaniel shook his head till his black curly ears flapped. "In other words, she sniffed Leader's butt."

"The little pet is right," said Laborador gloomily. ("I am not a pet," Spaniel muttered for the hundredth time.) "She's made Leader think that she'll mate only with him when the time is right. I don't like it, Alsatian. She's strong, she's got a good set of choppers, but -- you know what'll happen. That's why bitches got their own packs, it keeps the madness from breaking us all up. Present company excepted, of course." ("Of course," said Collie.)

"Alsatian! Spaniel!" Leader barked. "Collie! Come! Come here!"

Enough talk. I nudged Spaniel forward. "Go ahead, hero. Make our report to Leader."

Spaniel's tail wagged hard, once, before he tucked it down and still like a proper Protector approaching his alpha. Ears down, eyes down -- perfect protocol as he made his way before Leader, giving no notice of the tall curly-haired newcomer standing beside Leader. "Sir, yes sir! Spaniel, and Alsatian, and Collie reporting! Three strays in Protector territory, two long runs away to the north. Driven off. One minor wound, no blood, no broken skin. Territory re-established." ("No one lifts a leg like old Alsatian," I heard Stafford whisper to Rottweiler.)

"No, not the report, Spaniel," Leader said, and laughed. "I want you all to meet our newest pack member. Poodle?"

And Poodle approached us. Leader looked over at her as she nudged his side with her head, and -- and his ears drooped, a little, like a beta dog before his alpha. I could hear Spaniel growling, very very low, and felt my hackles rise again. Collie's tail lifted, just a bit. This did not feel, smell, look, hear, or taste right.

"Alsatian. I've heard so much about you," Poodle said, eyes down and tail between her legs. "A great beta male and a Protector among Protectors. I can only hope to be as good as you are someday."

Her posture was right. Her words were right, the tribute of a lower-rank to a higher-rank; they were correct words. But they were the wrong sound. The sound was not "I abase myself before my social superior," but "Believe what I say, and I will soon tell you what to do."

"Collie." Poodle sat and scratched her ears, prominently displaying her teats. "I've been told you're a good herder. Some of my pups have had herder blood. It's a pity you'll never know the joy of having a litter. It's the mark of a true bitch."

Collie bared her teeth and raised her tail higher.

"Why, don't you even know how to act like a real bitch?" Poodle said sweetly. "That's dog behavior, dear. I didn't mean to offend -- it's not your fault you didn't learn to act like a real female. If only you'd had one male before you were unsexed, you'd understand. But I'll be happy to teach you correct manners for a female -- consider it a gift."

Again, Poodle's voice didn't match her words -- kind-looking words but cruel-sounding tones that turned the words into weapons flung like badger's teeth. Collie looked ready to take the newcomer on, right then and there. Was this how bitch-packs fought, with cruel words?

And Leader simply stood and watched us, wagging his tail and lolling his tongue like a Golden Retriever. He ignored every sign of Poodle doing something wrong -- as if there was no anger or dissent inside his pack.

"And you." Poodle walked up to Spaniel, who stood Pointer-still. "I was told a Spaniel was in this pack. Aren't you cute! But won't your master or mistress miss you when you don't come home for your bowl of milk and your pillow?"

And then I was in front of her, staring down into her eyes despite my near-automatic need to concede to Leader's-mate. I'd moved so fast, putting myself between Spaniel and the newcomer, that I didn't even think about it. "Spaniel is my partner, Poodle, and has just received an injury from fighting for our territory. Like the rest of us, he's slept in boxes and under bridges, and eaten tribute left for us by civilians."

"Down, boy, down," Spaniel whispered, in a tone only my ears could hear. Reluctantly, I backed off, still glaring into her eyes, and lowered my hackles. At normal speaking tone, Spaniel said, "Alsatian is tired after our fight, Poodle. He didn't mean to offend. Um, he did tell the truth about me, I'm a Protector not a pet."

"How nice for you," Poodle said, turning back to Leader and fawning. "You do have such powerful Protectors in your pack, Dobie."

Dobie?

My ears went down like a puppy's in raw embarrassment for Leader. Spaniel's drooped even more. Collie's were flat to her skull. Everybody's ears were down.

But Leader wriggled and tusseled with her like a large pup playing with his indulgent mother. And his ears were half-down too. "Isn't she wonderful?" he said happily. "We can use her teeth, and her brains. She has all sorts of wonderful ideas for our pack."

Leader was the only one who thought so. Every one of us looked as if he was staring at Leader's corpse.

Pt 7
2 June 2002

Arf!

"I think it's wonderful that Leader is letting me go out on patrol with such a wise and experienced dog," Poodle said, cozying up to my side as we headed out together.

Leader had ordered Poodle to accompany a patrol and learn what was useful to learn. That is what he should have done, and done by right as pack-leader. But in reality, what had happened was that Poodle had fawned on me and nuzzled Leader, had once more committed the horrifying breach of protocol by calling Leader by name -- and not just his breed-name, but a pup-name to add further insult -- and Leader had agreed that Alsatian and Spaniel were the best team to show the new member of the pack the ways of the Protectors of the great city.

Now Poodle was on patrol with us. Us? Spaniel was on her other side. Poodle had started by pushing herself between me and my partner. And now she fawned on me with the proper words. But she was too large, too dark-haired and too curly all over. Her ears weren't curly enough, nor floppy enough. And she was between me and my partner. I smelled more than seasoned bitch. I smelled trouble.

"I've heard nothing but good things about your protective work, Alsatian," Poodle said, and licked behind one of my ears. "You're almost as big as Dobie."

I could hear Spaniel's ears flatten in embarrassment along with my own. Time to become a police dog. "Poodle, you're new here," I said firmly. "Leader is Leader. If he was a pack-member and not our leader, we would call him Doberman. But only if he was a puppy, with no rank nor standing beyond his litter, would it be right to call him Dobie. It is an insult, and a cause for challenge." Which still begged the question of why Leader hadn't yet challenged the newcomer for insult.

"Oh, Alsatian, it's just a little joke," Poodle said, fawning in the right voice. "I don't mean any insult. You're a dog and don't understand how things are done among bitches. Of course he is our leader. But he's a dog, too -- a dog like any other dog, who knows a true bitch when he smells one. And dogs love to be treated like pups by their bitches. It amuses them."

I might have believed that, if it weren't for Collie. She was a bitch, and she was my friend and Spaniel's friend. She and I tracked and shared food and play-fought together, and it was better than the one time I'd mated a street bitch in the madness of lust. I didn't know where the bitch was now nor how the pups had fared, nor did I care. Collie was out on her own patrol with Laborador, and her fate was a concern of mine.

Perhaps Leader was different. Perhaps this difference in me was the sharp-nose and not that of being a dog.

Perhaps I was reacting with so much anger because Poodle was between me and Spaniel. My silky-eared partner had only been with me for two years and a bit, and yet his presence had become important to my well-being. Now he tagged behind her heels in proper deference to age, while she fawned beside me. It was how newcomers were trained. But it didn't feel nor smell right to me now.

All well on the street. All clear on the block ahead. The next block, something was going down, something that sounded bad. Spaniel would tell me to shut down other things and use my ears, so I stopped and sat down. Spaniel stopped too. "We wait here," I said and closed my eyes. Ears forward. Forward --

"What are you doing, Alsatian? What are you doing?" Poodle barked right in my ear.

I yelped at the pain of that loud, loud voice just when I was aiming my ears, and curled in a ball, whimpering.

"What, what, what?" Poodle barked. "Alsatian, what's the matter?"

Spaniel's voice was distant, soothing. "It's his ears, Poodle, he -- "

"I didn't ask you, you little puppy!" Poodle barked loudly at Spaniel, and that pain tore into my ears once again. "Go chase a ball! I'm his partner right now, not you!" The voice was louder again, right in my ear. "Alsatian, what's wrong? Allie? Allie!"

"Alsatian!" I barked in her face, almost roaring in rage. "My name! Is! Alsatian!" I enjoyed seeing her eyes drop, her ears and tail go down. Injury and insult and ignorance were my partners now? "And Spaniel is my partner! He knows about my ears -- that's why he -- "

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, so sorry, Miss Poodle." Whimpering? Fawning? Worse pain than that ignorant loud barking in my ear was to hear Spaniel whine like a bitten puppy before this creature -- let alone see Spaniel crawl forward on his belly, wiggling his hindquarters and baring his throat. "Of course I was wrong to speak out of place. Please forgive me, I won't do it again."

Poodle turned her back to me and faced the cowering Spaniel. She leaned over and nipped his nose, and I thought I would be ill when Spaniel wagged his tail. "Of course I forgive you, Nelly," she said kindly. "You're only a puppy and don't know better. But you shouldn't play your silly puppy games with Alsatian. He's a big dog and should have an adult partner."

"You're right, you're right, Miss Poodle, I didn't know better," Spaniel whimpered. "You're a better partner for him than I am. I didn't know my place."

"Of course you didn't. You're such a cute puppy, but you really don't belong with a pack. You should be petted and played with..."

They kept going, with Spaniel whimpering and pleading and Poodle gently and graciously forgiving him. Poodle enjoyed seeing my partner humiliated like this, because she didn't tell him to stop...

She wasn't interrupting me any more, and her voice was much, much quieter. That clever pup of mine!

So I once more sent out my ears while she was busy graciously forgiving Spaniel, and did it fast. There, a fight two blocks away.

"A fight, Poodle, ahead, half a long run," I said, using my rank to interrupt the grovelling session, and took off. "Come with me!"

Real Protector work. Let's see how well this fighting-breed bitch did under orders.

More information, now through nose as well as ears. A small fight, only two dogs, but they were big dogs. They'd need us to rank them and not just break them up and chase them off if we were to avoid fighting them too.

Blood-smell, strong. Rage-filled voices. Pet and civilian voices. I knew what this was, and I was filled with anger even greater than my anger at Poodle.

There they were, bloodying their alley and surrounded by cheering civilians waving their paper food. Mutts, both of them with Pit Bull and Rottweiler in their blood. Untrained and vicious and stupid.

Civilian-fights. Some pets are bred by cruel civilians only to fight and kill, and other civilians trade their paper food to each other over the fights. The winner got no status, no place in a pack, not even a pat and praise from a civilian; all he got was another fight, and another, until he was killed by a bigger, stronger dog or until a civilian killed him. I've seen and smelled the remains from fights like this, and those are the times when I wish I could hate some civilians.

This wasn't a fight-job. This would require civilian help. Our counterparts are the Protector civilians, the police. We had to find the two-legged pack members, one or more, and lead them to the fight. They would drive off the cruel civilians and take care of the cruel dogs.

I turned to give the orders to my partners.

But before I could say anything, Poodle dashed forward, past me and into the alley. She bit a civilian, barking her head off.

"No!" I barked back, but it was too late. "No! Out! Out! Run! Run, Spaniel! Poodle!" I dashed forward and nipped Poodle's tail to turn her. Spaniel was already out of sight, and surely tearing back to the pack.

"They're being mean!" Poodle cried. "I'm going to stop them if you won't!"

"Go! Go now!" I bit her nose, hard, and shoved her, barking in her face. The civilians were shouting at us.

I heard the guns before I felt the first bullet. Poodle yelped and finally turned and ran. I followed, yelping as the pain followed me. I ran, hopping. My ear hurt. Out, out into the traffic. Dog-fighting civilians with guns stay in dark places and alleys, they won't go out in the street where the police are.

We were away from the civilians and the dogs. I slowed down, and the pain bit me.

"Allie, Allie, you're hurt!" Poodle sounded so sad. "You shouldn't have run toward those civilians if they were going to hurt you!"

"I knew they'd hurt us," I growled, limping, feeling my head pound. I smelled blood, my own blood now. I was so dizzy and full of pain I didn't correct her name for me. "That's why I tried to stop you."

"Oh, Allie, you were so brave! Not like that coward puppy that ran away. You saved my life!"

"We failed. If you'd done what you were told, the way Spaniel did, I wouldn't have gotten hurt." I could hear my blood dripping on the hot ground. I just wanted to go back to the pack. If I was badly hurt they'd drive me off and I'd find a place to die alone.

"Allie, how can you say such a thing! Why are you so mean to me? I'm only trying to help, and you insult me and hurt me over and over again! I'm going to tell Leader what you did to me!"

And she was gone. Finally, Poodle was gone. Now I could die in peace.

I was hurt badly. I could feel it. My failure to control Poodle had led to a disastrous patrol. But I'd gotten both members of my patrol out of a bad situation without them getting hurt. I'd done my duty, and that was a comfort.

"Alsatian, I'm here."

"Go back, lickhand," I groaned, staggering, even as the sound of Spaniel's voice was a comfort on my ears. "Go back to the pack. Stay with Laborador, he likes you and he'll keep you safe from Leader if she..."

"I'm not going back there. I'm staying with you until you're better. Leader can go chase cats if he doesn't like it, and as for that Poodle -- "

"I'm hurt bad, pup. I can feel it. I have to be alone for this, you know that." I stared at the ground, looking at the blood running down one of my legs and paws. I stank of blood, even worse than those poor stupid fighting dogs.

"You help civilians. Let the civilians help you, Alsatian."

New voice. Collie.

"Follow me, Alsatian. Come with me. Oh, open your eyes and I can herd you there! Spaniel?"

"Hold my tail in your teeth, Alsatian. You don't have to look where we're going. Just hold on to my tail and walk where I walk."

Holding my partner's feather-duster tail-tip in my teeth, drooling blood onto Spaniel's fur, I followed. It was hot. I hurt. I don't know how long I walked. I was tired and bleeding, and I just wanted to curl up in a box or crate and wait until Fenris found me and asked me to join his pack.

Finally Spaniel stopped, and I sank down. The last thing I remember is hearing him and Collie bark and bark and bark. I smelled medicine. Then the pain covered me.

I felt cold mesh and smelled metal as well as medicine. I heard all sorts of barking, and mewing and some birds. I was in a cage. I ached all over. I was covered in bandages. I was alive.

"Hey! Hey, pal, you better? Hey, stray!"

"Watch your tongue," I said, turning to the dog in the cage next to me. Irish Setter, grinning, wagging his brush of a tail. "I'm a Protector, not a stray."

"Cop dog, huh? You got hurt by bad dogs, bad two-legs, huh?" He grinned again and wagged his tail. "You're all fixed up, huh! Not gonna die, huh! Need a new home, huh! New master, huh! My master got me fixed up too! I ate something bad and they made me throw up! Whew, barf all over, huh! Won't eat that stuff again, huh! Well, not for a while, huh!"

I was starting to miss Poodle's chatter.

"Master's coming soon, huh! Get me out, take me home!"

"Good for you, Irish," I replied to the pet. I didn't know how long I'd been in there or how long the civilians would keep me there.

"Alsatian."

Spaniel's voice. There was a window in this big room full of cages. It was closed, but I heard him through the window. He wasn't barking loud. He knew he didn't have to.

"Alsatian, I don't know if you're awake or not. It's been three days since you were shot. You're in a building full of civilians that take care of hurt and sick dogs. Collie knew about this place. When you're better, they'll let you go. They know about Protectors; they won't find you a master or have you killed as a stray.

"Poodle told Leader you got us into that dog-fight in the alley, and you got shot when she tried to stop you from fighting civilians. She told Leader I ran away and that's why I haven't been back. That's what Collie says. She got a nasty nose-bite from Leader when she tried to correct Poodle's version of what happened. Leader is wearing Poodle's leash. No one has fought him yet, but it won't be long. Get better soon, so we can help Collie go after that bitch.

"I'll be back tomorrow."

And Spaniel's voice was gone.

The pain wasn't so bad any more; my heart was beating hard. Anger is very good at hiding pain.

Soon. Soon I would be out, and join my pack. They would need me, if this came down to war.

Dogsenad, Pt. 8 Thu, 3 Apr 2003

In memory of Red Dwarf.

*Bad dogs, bad dogs, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they piddle on you? Bad dogs, bad dogs!*

I smelled my partner before I heard his breath, and heard him before I saw him appear under the bridge where I waited for him. He dropped a meaty bone at my forepaws and licked my nose.

I didn't even greet Spaniel, let alone thank him for the food, before attacking the bone; it tasted sweeter for being from his mouth. The kibble in the medicine-smelling building had filled me but didn't hold the taste of honestly-earned food while on Protector patrol.

"Stray-stolen food is always better, isn't it?" Spaniel lolled next to me, panting. "That's what I am now, Alsatian -- that's what Leader's calling me now. You're a runaway and I'm a stray."

At the foul word I stopped gnawing the bone. "Stray?" I sniffed my partner from nose to tail and back, so frantically that I pushed Spaniel this way and that with my nose-tip. Thank Fenris, he didn't smell like a stray -- a mean, dirty, sick, constantly-hungry smell they carry like a back full of fleas. A lick of his sides didn't reveal any showing ribs.

Spaniel licked my muzzle all over and bit my chin hard to reassure me. "I'm all right, Alsatian, I'm all right. One of Collie's littermates is a pet who doesn't live far from here. His civilians have been feeding me too, and they gave me this big bone." Spaniel returned the regard by sniffing the bare patches on my sides, where my fur had been cut away to treat my bullet wounds.

"I haven't even reported to Leader yet," I said. "If I showed up, he couldn't call me a runaway."

Another friend was approaching, by the smell of it -- Stafford. "If you showed, Alsatian," he said as he appeared, "Leader would tear your ears for endangering a newcomer on a patrol." Stafford dropped down beside me. "You stink of whitecoats."

"Good to see you too, Stafford," I replied.

"And I hear you're back to baskets and doggie-treats, Spaniel," Stafford snorted.

"Lies. A mouthful here and there from grateful civilians, nothing more." Spaniel bared his teeth at Stafford, who returned the grin. "Any other exiles from the pack?"

"Well, Poodle got partnered to Rottweiler a few days ago, and somehow he wound up walking into a street where stray dogs get caught a lot." Stafford chewed a paw. "Civilians caught him and put him in a cage."

"Fenris, they'll kill him!" I snapped.

"No -- that, at least, was a blessing. Rottweiler was too well-fed and healthy to be a stray, so they didn't kill him right away. Collie kept an eye on the building. Some civilians chose Rottweiler as a pet, and took him away in a car; as they got in the car Rottweiler told Collie that he's safe, but going very far away. We'll probably never see him again." Stafford sighed.

That was a small relief, but now I was so angry at Poodle I could have bitten a bone in two. Rottweiler and I had been packmates; he'd been our best heavy fighter. And yet another threat to Poodle's power game was taken out of the pack.

Only days ago my partner Spaniel and I, along with our packmate Collie, had returned from patrol to find a new pack member and Leader fawning at Poodle's heels. The presence of an unspayed bitch in our pack forebode a terrible fight that could break our pack.

Our uneasiness about the newcomer proved justified when Poodle's disobedience on patrol had helped to get me badly injured. Spaniel and Collie had guided me to helpful civilians when Poodle had run off to let me die. I had only just been freed from t he cage in the medicine-smelling building where my wounds had been tended. Spaniel's daily report from outside the building let me know how things were for everyone -- starting with Spaniel's own expulsion from the pack after Leader had heard and bel ieved Poodle's lies about the cause of the failed patrol. According to Collie, who was still a pack-member in good standing, Poodle had reversed our roles in the disastrous patrol to make herself the hero and me the idiot. At Spaniel's suggestion during one report, I waited under the bridge rather than reporting immediately to Leader upon being freed from the building, as I should have done.

I was very angry, but lying quietly. I was still sore all over from the bullets that had hurt me, and the things the civilians had done to make me better. One of the bullets must have hit me in the ass, because sitting was a painful thing to do right now.

Now it seemed that she'd gotten rid of Rottweiler, too.

"No doubt she just happened to 'accidentally' wander down the wrong street, and just as Rottweiler ran after her to drive her back she made a lot of noise and then hid," Spaniel said. "Except that Poodle told Leader that Rottweiler went down that street to show off in front of her."

Stafford's ears pricked forward in amusement. "You're only two hairs off what she said, Spaniel. Rottweiler suddenly decided to start fighting civilians for no reason. Or so Poodle said."

Another friend approached. "Alsatian, Spaniel!" Laborador said, joining us as evening darkened. "Cats are chasing dogs! Leader's dropped his ears and tail for a beta bitch, and Poodle's shit doesn't stink. Leader's out 'showing the patrol route' to Poodle right now." He scratched his ears hard, trying to scratch the lies out of them.

"She doesn't have to be in heat to break this pack." Spaniel lay against my bare side, where my fur had been cut off around my bullet-wounds. It kept both of us from the cold of the nearby river; Spaniel said I was warmer than a dog-bed, and Spaniel' s own fur protected my naked skin.

"Poodle's a smart breed, Alsatian," Laborador said. "And there's something about her that's even more than being a smart dog. She fawns and shows throat correctly, but it's as if she's saying something else."

I chewed one of Spaniel's silky ears, a habit I'd missed terribly during my stay in the nasty-smelling metal cage; it was a comfort now in that uneasy night. "I looked her right in the eye that first day, Lab, and Leader didn't nip my nose for disrespect. I hear it in her words. Her words and posture are correct to greet superiors, but the sound I heard was 'Roll and bare your throat.'"

Spaniel licked my muzzle hard all over. "Your ears are so good at this! That's why we can't lose you!"

I had to cuff Spaniel aside, and grabbed at his muzzle with my own mouth. "Down, lickhand, down!" My partner was always at his most petlike and puppyish when I learned some new thing about my sharp-nose abilities.

"That's exactly the feeling I get about her!" Bulldog said, trotting up; it seemed that this bridge was becoming a meeting- place for the most uneasy of Leader's Protectors. "Sharp-nose isn't the right name for your gift, Alsatian old boy, we should call it sharp-ear!"

"She didn't know about your gift before I was driven out of the pack," Spaniel said. "That's why I interrupted you on patrol, before you could tell her. It might be better for us to have something she doesn't know about on our side."

"Unless Leader told her about you," Bulldog said, "and I don't think he has because Poodle hasn't made any mention of it."

"Sharp-ear, sharp-nose, what good does the gift do us now?" Stafford growled. "We know she's a threat. But Leader is Leader, and he didn't become head of the pack by wagging his tail. If any of us challenges him, he either gets banished or he becomes Leader and has to banish him, or kill him. Same if we all gang up to take him on -- who will be leader when he's gone who'll be as good? He's the best pack-head we've had in years, and it's only when that bitch is around that he turns into an Irish Setter from the neck up. If we could only get Poodle away from him."

"Maybe Collie can just fight Poodle somewhere," Spaniel said. "Fenris knows she's angry enough right now to draw blood, if not kill."

"Can't blame her," Stafford growled. Poodle had insulted Collie, one of the best members of the Protectors and the single best herder, only because Collie was unable to whelp. Poodle had gotten a friend of hers hurt, and another friend banished.

"Does she plan to join our conspiracy tonight?" I chewed an imaginary itchy spot on a forepaw.

Stafford shook his head, not in negation but in sorrow. "That it's come to this -- we're actually serious about killing Leader or driving him off. And this is what Poodle can do when she's not in season. When her tail goes up, you won't be the only one to smell death for this pack, Alsatian."

"Could we drive her off?" Spaniel asked.

"All of us?" Bulldog said. "We'd have to take on both Poodle and Leader. They're both fighting dogs, and we'll be weaker for Leader's loss if nothing else. And when she goes into heat, she could split the pack, and this would become a war among us."

I smelled another friend approaching, and pricked my ears forward. "And there she is."

Collie did indeed join us and exchanged a quick mouth-tug with me before flopping down. "Glad to see you up and biting again, Alsatian, after what that woman did to you. I tried to tell Leader what really happened on that patrol, but Poodle could have told Leader you'd flown away and he'd believe her."

"So I've been told," I said, tugging Spaniel's ear in my mouth. "Even then, I could smell how ready she was. She'll go into heat before the year's end."

"Soon there'll be more blood than Alsatian's," Laborador said. "More missing than Rottweiler."

Collie shook her head till her ears flapped (though not as dramatically as Spaniel's did). "Whatever happens, Spaniel, Alsatian -- I fight with you two."

"Let's bare our fangs when fangs are bared," Spaniel added. "She's a fighting breed, and she's smart. We have to hope that she doesn't want us dead, she wants to bite our noses."

"Some bitches do that." Collie licked a forepaw. "They become a leader's mate after the fights die down and packs regroup, and get power that way. Her pups are higher status, and she gets fed better than a stray or a lower-rank in a bitch pack would. The really smart ones become the true pack-leaders, through suggestions and manipulation of the leader. She's almost there already, and Leader hasn't even mated her yet.

"If we don't stop her, Poodle may wind up holding Leader by that leash until her pups are old enough to overcome and kill their sire."

Stafford snorted. "It's a strong leash, Collie. When the madness hits a dog who's after a bitch in season, he'd jump off a tall building to follow her."

"Really? It's that powerful" Spaniel looked worried, and curious. Of course he wouldn't know yet, he was still a pup.

"It's the truth, Chief." I tugged Spaniel's ear. "A few years before you came along, I went after a seasoning bitch. We didn't go any further than an alley, but I left patrol to mate her -- I didn't feel any duty or responsibility. All I could think about was mating, and I didn't go back on patrol until I was done. I don't know what became of her, or the pups."

Spaniel cocked his head. "That's really frightening. The drive to mate must be as strong for the bitches, or they'd all use that power to command the dogs and they'd all be in charge."

"I think it was that way for Mother." Collie scratched an ear. "She told us that the drive was like a fire inside her ass. She couldn't eat or sleep or think until she'd mated. My litter was born on the streets. We were picked up by civilians -- Moth er and all of us -- and taken to that building. That's why I knew where it was when you got shot, Alsatian. They took care of all of us; they fed us and got rid of our worms, and all of us were spayed or neutered."

Laborador rumbled anxiously and licked his testicles for a few moments.

"I was sent to a home where I could practice my herding on the young civilians," Collie continued. "When I was old enough I became a patroller too. But I never forgot the civilians in that building, or how kind they were to all of us."

"Kind indeed," Bulldog grumbled. "Maybe you should challenge Poodle, Collie. You're a bitch too, and you won't lose your mind if she seasons."

Collie snorted. "If I challenge Poodle, she'll go yapping to Leader. Leader's a Doberman and I'm a Border Collie. That fight has an ending everyone can see right now. Alsatian?"

"I can barely walk without hurting all over," I growled. "I might be able to hold off Spaniel here in a fight, right now."

Spaniel licked my nose. "You could have challenged Leader, Alsatian. You're big enough and a good fighter. But you're hurt right now and you couldn't do it. I think she knew that."

"Which is why she broke rank in the alley," I finished. "She wanted me dead, or at least too badly hurt to be a threat. The lie just guarantees that I'll be attacked on sight if I show myself to the Protectors."

Stafford hackled and showed every one of his teeth. "You mean she tried to get you hurt or killed?"

That thought made me go cold too, and not just where I'd been clipped. Ignorance or stupidity on a first patrol was one thing, but the thought of Poodle deliberately causing the disruption that nearly killed me made me howl with fear inside. I couldn 't think of doing something like that -- but she could. How could we fight someone who could think of things we couldn't, and ways to hurt us that we could not imagine?

"I could could challenge Leader, pup, if I was sound." I nudged one silky ear. "But I could never be pack leader. I'm a fighter, but I'm not an alpha. I need an alpha over me, holding on to my nose."

"So that's why you keep the little lapsitter around, Alsatian," Bulldog snorted.

"Car-chaser," Spaniel muttered.

"Ball-catcher."

"Shit-eater!"

"Bath-taker!"

"Three legs!"

"Cat-licker!"

I left the puppies to their tussle, more worried about my own thoughts than about some good-natured sparring among packmates. If Poodle was thinking that far ahead, driving out the strongest threats to her power one by one, a fight might only split the pack for good, and cause old friends to kill each other over her. Before I became a part of this, I'd leave and take Spaniel with me. Perhaps I ought to be looking for a new pack that needed Protectors.

Collie scratched herself. "Alsatian, it's too bad you're too wounded to fight. Otherwise we'd have a wonderful weapon in you that we could use against Poodle."

"The sharp-nose? Only if Leader hasn't told her."

"That too. But haven't you seen the wonderful gift the civilians gave you while you were in that building?"

"All I remember is that rock-headed Irish Setter in the cage next to me who never stopped yapping, and being in pain," I growled. "My ass still hurts."

"You haven't turned around to look? Oh of course not, you can't move that way yet. Spaniel, look under Alsatian's tail and tell him what you see."

If this was some Collie-trick... I lifted my tail and felt Spaniel turn around.

Spaniel let out such a startled yelp that I felt the breath of it on my clipped backside. I started upright, heart pounding and head looking around.

"They're gone! Alsatian, your balls are gone!" Spaniel yipped.

My tail dropped. So that was why my ass hurt. It wasn't a bullet! "I'm...I'm neutered?"

Laborador and Stafford had crowded in where Spaniel had been, sniffing under my tail "Smooth as a bitch down there." Laborador said.

"They neutered you while you were in the building." Collie panted. "Just like me."

"You lucky dog," Bulldog growled. "You're free! That bitch can't do anything to you when she seasons!"

Free? I was free?

"Oh boy this is great!" Spaniel yipped, ears flying as he nipped my muzzle all over. "Oh boy oh boy oh boy! This is wonderful!"

"Wonderful?" I turned to look at my smaller partner and winced from the pain. "I'm a neuter, but I still won't be able to fight her."

"You won't have to!" Spaniel's tongue lolled and his eyes sparkled.

"She'll notice my balls are gone, won't she?"

We were near the Protector pack, out of sight -- close enough for me to smell everyone but not so close that they could smell me. The others who'd joined us under the bridge had returned rather than get accused of trying to split the pack.

I could smell her there, too. She would go into heat the very next day, and I had just said so to my partner.

"Yes. But if things go right, she won't notice for a little bit of time. That's what you'll give us." Spaniel rested his chin on his front paws. "Just remember to act as idiotic as you did the last time you went after a seasoning bitch."

Then up went Spaniel's ears and out came his tongue, and he sprang to his feet. That always meant that he'd come up with another idea. "Alsatian, what would happen if I fought you? I mean really fought you, no puppy tussling, like I was trying to kill you?"

I stared at the little dog, and tugged at one curly-haired ear with my mouth. "I'm still hurting, lickhand, but you'd get beaten into the ground in no time."

Spaniel uttered a sharp yip. "Perfect! That's great! That's great!"

I nudged his nose with my own. "What is going on in that curly- haired head of yours, lapdog?"

"Something else that'll help us," said Spaniel, and scratched his ears hard. "Just remember, Alsatian -- you must act exactly like a dog trailing a bitch in heat. Exactly the same way."

"I said I would."

"Good. Tomorrow, then." Spaniel uttered one short bark, and we dashed off pursued by the challenge barks of the pack, for all intents and purposes merely scaring off an interloper. Collie and her cohorts now knew that the plan would be put in motion the next day.

I'd never been to this civilian home before; it wasn't part of our regular territory. But it smelled much like Collie, so it was familiar and I knew we were safe.

The small, shaking pet smelled like Collie, too. It was the same breed, but smaller than her.

Spaniel sniffed his ass. "Dwarf, it's good to see you again. Thank you for your hospitality." Ah, this was the pet whose civilians had fed Spaniel when I'd been shot; we both owed him a debt. "We need your help for something else."

"No sheep! No sheep!" Dwarf whimpered.

"No, we won't have to deal with any sheep at all," Spaniel said, sniffing Dwarf's nose. "Just other dogs."

I filled in the rest of the plan to Dwarf. Once he understood that there really were no sheep involved, he agreed and we parted ways for the night.

"He's a Border Collie, but he's afraid of sheep?" I said to Spaniel on our way back to the bridge.

"Deathly afraid of sheep - or so Collie says."

"What kind of sheepdog is afraid of sheep?" I asked.

"One who's better off as a pet," Spaniel said.

The next day we went to Dwarf's house to collect him, and the three of us went for a walk. Sharp-ear and sharp-nose I became, letting Spaniel nip and nudge me along while I listened and smelled for our opponent. We patrolled, a far wider quarter than was our usual haunt. Dwarf liked it, even if he seemed to jump and shake every time a car passed, or another dog growled in our direction.

"...need to work together, haven't we?"

Collie. Approaching. Another with her, familiar and despised. Further away by a long shot, one familiar and respected. "Look, we don't have to like each other, but we are going to be in the same pack," Collie was saying. "It's a good day for a patrol."

She'd done it. At Spaniel's suggestion, Collie was to bring up the topic of a patrol today, hinting that Poodle and Leader should be alone with each other. Poodle would ensure Leader-pups this way, before returning still in season and disrupting the pack with her scent.

"Collie, you spend too much time thinking about work," Poodle said prettily. "I suppose that's what happens when a bitch isn't a true bitch, she can't put her energy into what's really important in life. Dobie knows that too, the dear."

"I really wish you'd call him 'Leader,' Poodle, he's earned that title and -- "

"So cold, Collie. No warmth and love inside you at all. Well, it's not your fault you're not whole, but you might have some consideration for those of us -- "

I could smell the rage boiling off Collie. If I didn't interrupt, there'd be a bitch-slap and no mistake.

Now.

I bounded forward and faced the group -- looking especially at the surprised Poodle. Tongue out, eyes glittering. "Poodle."

Poodle recovered quickly. "Why, Alsatian, so good to smell you again," Poodle said prettily. "We haven't seen you around the pack."

She had the stink. She was in season.

"You know I've always thought you should be the Leader, don't you, Allie?" Poodle said sweetly, tongue hanging out. "I just know you could be Leader if you really gave it a good try. Dobie thinks I'm all his, but I know you can prove him wrong if you take him on."

So that was her plan, all right. Get all the alphas and betas tearing each other's throats out, and dominate the winner as the true pack leader...

And I could still think with her smelling like that! I could hear and smell the lies in her words, instead of thinking that everything she said was true and beautiful!

"Now just a bloody minute!" Collie snapped at Poodle. "You can't just go around -- "

"Allie, she's bothering me," Poodle whimpered.

Dog following a bitch does everything she wants. I charged Collie, barking and hackling, and Collie yelped and tore off. I then turned my attention to Poodle and followed her, trying to sniff at her ass.

"Such a strong, handsome Protector," Poodle cooed, stepping away from my nose and walking a little faster. "I know you want me, Allie, I have what you need. All you have to do is come with me and do what I say, and then you can fuck me all you want. Won't that be nice?"

"Uh," I whuffed, sniffing. "Uh. Fuck. Fuck. Yeah." I trotted after her.

"Get away from her, she's mine!" a familiar voice yipped.

And Spaniel tore out of the bushes, straight toward her, barking. His penis was out and he was caught up in her smell -- really caught up in it. He wasn't pretending.

Now I knew why he'd asked me that question, and what he wanted me to do. My brave pup.

Without hesitation I confronted Spaniel, snarling and hackling. "My bitch! Mine! Mine!"

Spaniel yipped and leaped at my nose with his teeth bared, his eyes wild with lust.

I went for his throat. I bit and tore at his beautiful silky ears, spun around and snapped at his back, bit at his muzzle and his face. This was no tussle that we had shared, no playful mouth-grabbing game between packmates and friends; this was two lust-maddened dogs trying to kill each other over a seasoning bitch.

One last, vicious snap of mine, and Spaniel backed off, whimpering in pain, limping away and leaving a trail of blood from one paw and one ear. I made myself turn back to the bitch, licking the one shoulder bite Spaniel had given me before I'd beaten him into the ground.

Poodle stood nearby, her eyes on both of us, her tail wagging. The woman, she'd enjoyed watching me hurt my friend. Now she had the proof that I was completely besotted by her and would do anything she wanted. She turned and trotted away, in the direction of Leader. She was ready for the bloodshed to begin.

I tagged after her, playing the lovesick dog, and did not look behind me. I did not hear Spaniel's pained whimpers or the dragging sound of his wounded leg. I did not smell his blood and my own saliva in his bites. I made sure I saw only the opportunity Spaniel gave me.

I smelled Leader approaching -- and he was gone with lust. Leader would do to me what I'd done to Spaniel.

"Sheep!" a voice whimpered behind me. "Sheep!"

"Oh, go home you little pet," Poodle snapped petulantly, turning around. "And I'm a curly-haired bitch, not a sheep. If you'd only try using your...your..."

"Sheep!" the little dog whined in fear.

"Not sheep," Poodle whimpered back. "Not...can't...think..."

Ah, the unbreakable gaze of the Border Collie.

"Sheep," Dwarf growled.

"Stop that!" Poodle whined. "Allie, come get this dog away from me! Get rid of him for me, the way you got rid of that ridiculous Spaniel!"

Eyes closed against the terrible stare of the little Dwarf, I let my nose direct me to the threat. I leaned over and lunged, my jaws snapping shut.

Poodle squealed with pain and pulled hard at her hind leg firmly held in my teeth. "Dobie! Dobie!" she squealed.

I heard Leader coming at a run, panting with fury. "Alsatian, get away from her!" he growled. "My bitch! Mine! Mine!"

But then I heard another growl, and a soft whimper from Leader.

"Sir, yes sir," Collie said. "Look into my eyes. Don't look away. Back you go, sir. That's right. Back. Once Poodle is gone, you can fight us all you want. A little further. A little more. Further...further..." I heard them backing away, at the same time that Dwarf and I made Poodle back away in the opposite direction. At the very edge of my hearing, with Poodle out of Leader's nose, Collie said, "And...now!" I knew she'd looked away.

Furious barking. "Bitch! Whelp of a stray! I'll kill you for this!" Leader howled, and tore after Collie. They were gone soon.

"No!" Poodle cried. But there was no one to influence now. She was held fast by two neuters -- one who was afraid of her, and one who hated her.

I pulled backward, making Poodle hop on three legs like a street stray. "Sheep," Dwarf whined, but I heard him shuffle forward, still fixing Poodle with the terrible unbreakable stare of the herder dogs.

It was a long time and a lot of work, but my nose led the three of us till we were well out of our territory, and into a dangerous street -- a street full of dangerous smells.

"Bark, Dwarf," I said through my aching teeth.

And Dwarf did -- barked and barked and barked, till the air was full of the yells of dogs aware of a bitch in heat.

Civilians shouted and called, and I heard them come out. One cried out at seeing what surely looked like a cruel street attack -- two dogs assaulting a lone Poodle bitch.

Now!

I let go of Poodle's torn leg -- she had done all the tearing, yanking at it through my teeth all the way across town -- and clamped my jaws on her nose, glaring into her eyes and hackling from rump to snout, so angry I could barely growl.

Rage in those intelligent fighter's eyes, and an undisguised demand for my submission. But any instinct I had to roll and show my throat to Leader's mate was swamped by my fury at the way she had broken my pack and made me hurt Spaniel. She was an invader on my territory. I pulled at her muzzle, trying to force her nose down.

With a bark Poodle pulled free, and fell on her side as her hurt leg gave way. Civilians rushed forward.

Dwarf and I tore out of there as if we were cars on the road.

It was three long runs back to Protectors territory again. But the last thing I heard from behind us was the clang of a cage door, and Poodle's whimper of grief at the destruction of her plans.

It was good to be home, amid the others at the old Protector-pack meeting place. Leader, of course, was missing.

"Collie led him right to us, waiting outside that building, and we all gave him one good bite," Stafford said. "He looked like he'd been in a real bloody street-fight, all right. He'll be busy grabbing our noses and biting ears when he gets out of that place."

"Good," I said shortly, licking Spaniel's hurt ear and bitten paw. "He needs to re-establish his dominance all over again. It'll be good for him."

It was Leader's turn to spend time in that medicine-smelling building where Collie and Spaniel had taken me; when he got out, he'd be as safe from Poodle and her influence as I was. The Leader we knew and respected should return.

And Poodle? Poodle was young and well-fed and well-groomed, with a friendly air when she got her own way. Once the civilians who took her into the building for strays cleaned her up and put her in a cage, some civilian family would be happy to take her a nd go far away from our territory with their new pet. Or she would be killed. Either way, she was gone for good.

And it was Spaniel's idea -- Spaniel's, with the able assistance of Collie and her littermate Dwarf. He now had real wounds to show for his street-fighting, and real scars when they healed. And I had put them on him.

I was busy in my usual corner box, letting Spaniel know how much I admired him and was proud of his courage. I let Stafford talk while I attended the ear I'd torn and the paw I'd bitten.

"That was strange, Alsatian," Spaniel said, whining a little at the pain but otherwise uncowed. "I'm glad you were able to stop me. No wonder Poodle could make Leader lick cats -- I'd have done anything for her right then. Anything. I tried to kill you."

"And I beat you into the ground, just like I said. Now you know, lap-sitter," I said, holding the hurt ear in my mouth very gently. "You're not a puppy any more -- you're a true dog, able to respond to a seasoning bitch."

"It was wonderful," he said. "And frightening. And overwhelming."

"Fenris' madness is a cruel thing, especially out here in the streets. Away from civilians and Protectors, all it does is make more pups that become strays. No offense meant, Collie."

"None taken, Alsatian." Collie licked her own injuries -- Leader had managed to get one or two good bites in before the rest of the pack had pulled him away, and before the civilians could take Leader into the building. All in all, our entire pack looked as if we'd weathered a most terrible fight, and were glad to be alive and in one piece again.

"Then I shouldn't be here, with you mutts." Spaniel pulled away and stood, and hobbled. His ear was clean, but still oozed blood. "I know what to do!"

I rested one paw on Spaniel's back and pulled him back down to rest. "Those civilians will start wondering why hurt dogs show up on their doorstep politely asking to be neutered. If they get too curious, they may find out about us, and put us in more buildings to do worse things to us."

Spaniel shook his ears, and yelped a little, and lowered the silky banners. "The places where animals go to die in the cages, while civilians in white coats stick things in them. No. I'll wait until Leader is out and biting tails again. Then I'll find a way for them to know what I want."

I continued to groom the raw ear in peace.

"We'll need a pack-leader until Leader is out and safe," Laborador called.

Terrier and Springer jumped and yipped. "Yes! Yes! Yes! An alpha until Leader is out!"

"We won't be needing any fighting done," Stafford said. "We'll be spending the next part of a year recovering from this."

"So what we need," I added, "is an alpha dog who's smart, thoughtful, knows his dogs, and has proven himself in a fight."

Stafford thumped his tail. "You're right, Alsatian."

Collie grinned, her tail swishing. "Alsatian, it's perfect. The one who rid us of our worst threat."

"What? What?" Spaniel barked, very nearly his old puppy self.

But Spaniel's fanning tail stopped in pure astonishment, and for once my silky partner had nothing to say, when I was the first of the Protectors to roll over and bare my throat to him.

• THE END --

JANE'S BIG BOOK OF CASCADE DOGS (in order of appearance):

Alsatian - Jim Ellison
Spaniel - Blair Sandburg
Leader (aka "Dobie," "Doberman") - Simon Banks Laborador - Joel Taggart
Stafford - H
Terrier - Rafe
Peke - Danny Choi (ibid.)
Collie - Megan Connor
Badgers - the Juno brothers ("Killers") Poodle - Cassie Wells/Alex Barnes
Dwarf - Red Dwarf

End Dogsenads - The Complete Collection

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